


I Don't Mind

by NeutreTheAmbiguous



Series: The Mysteries of a Town of Crime (Sherlock Fanfiction) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottomwatson, Hickeys, John complaining about the hickeys, John is in love with an idiot, M/M, NSFW, Rimming, Sherlock is the idiot in question, Sherlock's arm chair, Smut, a little kinky, handjobs/blowjobs, toplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-09-25 11:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeutreTheAmbiguous/pseuds/NeutreTheAmbiguous
Summary: Sherlock comes home late, and John doesn't have to be any Sherlock Holmes to tell he's stressed when he comes in and just sinks into his arm chair. He says not one word to John until he feels a presence between his manspread legs; a soft hand belonging to John kneading its way up his thigh."I could take care of your stress, Sherlock..." He looked up and noted the protest in his friend's eyes and meets the look with his own kind smile and head tilt. "Oh, you big oaf. I don't mind."





	I Don't Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I got the inspiration for this fanfiction from this Tumblr profile:
> 
> https://archiaart.tumblr.com/tagged/sherlock
> 
> Check them out. It's an 18+ blog that has amazing Johnlock (Toplock) fanart, they make comics and sell them so go over to their Tumblr and buy whatever you fancy!

John sat at Sherlock's desk by the windows, noting how the time seemed to drag on without Sherlock to keep him entertained and quite annoyed. He glanced at the clock every one to two minutes, each time cursing softly in annoyance. 

"Oh Sherlock," he muttered under his breath, tugging on the collar of his gray knit sweater, ", you did say you'd be home tonight, didn't you?"

He checked his phone and smoothed out his stretchy jeans. 11:24 PM. He sighed wearily and opened his messages with Sherlock:

Sherlock Holmes, 10:56 AM: I got held up last night. I'll be home once I wrap up a loose end of mine.

John Watson, 10:57 AM: Held up? With what?

John Watson, 11:32 AM: Sherlock?

John Watson, 2:16 PM: You're worrying me.

John read through the messages and wondered if Sherlock had read them. He then wondered if Sherlock believed him. With a deep sigh, he typed another message:

John Watson, 11:29 PM: I'll wait up for you.

And wait he did. He waited for around thirty more minutes- he should know, he counted- before hearing the door slammed open. He jumped up from his sit and spun around, his hands placed on the desk.

"Sherlock I was worried!" He assumed it was Sherlock, he hoped it was at least, not in the mood to be kidnapped or killed by another serial killer who held a personal grudge against Sherlock. His shoulders slumped in relief when he saw Sherlock round the corner while tugging his scarf and coat off. He threw it onto the coffee table and threw himself into his arm chair. "Sherlock?"

John found himself stepping away from the desk and looking at Sherlock's face. The man crossed his arms and tapped his foot, he legs spread apart as he looked up at the bullet holes in the wall. John rubbed his own arm.

"You could at least speak. Tell me where you've been for the past thirty hours?" 

Sherlock ignored him, staring blankly at the wall. He licked his dry lips and didn't acknowledge John or anything else until he felt a warm presence between his legs. 

He glanced down without moving his head, his legs shifting when John kneaded his hand against his thigh and looked up at Sherlock. "You're stressed."

"I am not."

John sighed and pressed his lips to the fabric covering Sherlock's knee. Sherlock watched him, his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

"I could take care of your stress..." His eyes met the look of protest on his friend's face but he simply shot back a kind smile and tilted his head slightly. "Oh, you big oaf. I don't mind." 

Sherlock swallowed and watched John's lips ghost over the bulge of his slacks. He rested his hands on his knees and mouthed against it, shivering when Sherlock rested his fingers in his hair and stroked down to the nape of his neck with his nails. John let out a breathy sigh and layer his cheek on the growing bulge.

"Sherlock..."

"Keep going." He was surprised on how hoarse his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. "I want to see what you do."

John looked up at him with stunning, soft eyes. His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke: "You already know what I'll do, it's you who's unpredictable."

"Then perhaps I'd like to see what you tempt me for, John Watson."

"Same for you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." He closed his eyes once more and mouthed along his clothed member, his hands stroking up and down his thighs. Sherlock couldn't take his eyes away from the erotica unfolding between his legs and simply didn't want to.

He could feel John's spit and his hot tongue through the fabric and the way John mouthed at him reminded him of a dog licking it's owner's dirty underwear. That's the only reason he could think that he allowed himself a low guttural growl and gave John a little:

"Oh good _boy._.." 

John gasped and the first thought in his head was a desperate plea of _more_. More praise, more of Sherlock's voice, more more more. Maybe it was the time of night, maybe it was his tired brain doing flips at the thought of intercourse with Sherlock Holmes, or maybe John was so desperately in love that he'd take any praise from Sherlock as long as it was from those beautiful chapped lips.

"_Yes_..." John whimpered, his fingers working on ridding Sherlock of his belt. "Yes, yes I am... I'm a _good_ boy, Sherlock..."

He heard Sherlock's course chuckle and his eyes fluttered. "Mhm... I see that... Are you going to get me off like one?" 

"I am..." John looked up at him while he unzipped his trousers and pulled his flaccid cock out of them. His heart beat that much faster as he thumbed over the pulse and teased his tongue under the head of his cock. Sherlock gave a closed-mouth groan when John began to pump his member and poke the tip of it with his tongue with each upwards stroke. 

"Oh dear god, John..." He half muttered, watching him wet his lips and stretch them around his member. He marveled as it grew to full width with the help of John's tongue and cheeks enveloping it in a wet, plush blanket of ecstasy. Sherlock tilted his head back with a sharp intake of air and grabbed his friend's hair. "John, all the way." 

John moaned around his cock and allowed himself to be pushed down to take all of Sherlock's width into his mouth. His eyes brimmed with tears as the head of it pressed against his throat and tickled his gag reflex. He grabbed Sherlock's thighs and gagged wetly around him, Sherlock groaning at the contraction and squeeze of his throat as it tried to push the foreign object out.

"I know morse code. I'll understand if you want to stop, just tap." He reached down and squeezed John's hand, his other hand pushing John further down so that his pubes brushed against his nose. He opened his eyes and stared at his pubes and stomach as he sucked and swallowed around Sherlock's cock. 

Sherlock tilted his head back and groaned quietly, his hands moving to the arms of his chair while John closed his eyes and suckled on the cock in his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down and cupped the side of it with one hand when he pulled off with a wet pop. John kissed and sucked on the other side of Sherlock's cock, gasping when Sherlock tugged his head back by his hair and looked at him with those dark eyes. Or at least, they were dark now because of how blown Sherlock's pupils where; a sliver of blue peering over his pupils.

"Celebrity Heads." He breathed out. "I said 'I don't mind' that night when you touched my leg." 

John flushed a beautiful crimson and pumped Sherlock's cock under his fingers. He didn't think Sherlock would remember that. John glanced away, suddenly bashful.

"You wanted to do this that night... Didn't you?" Sherlock murmured to him, his member twitching when John slowly nodded his head.

"I did..." He admitted, barely audible. "Oh I did... But I... I must've realized how drunk you were... And I backed out..."

There was a long moment of silence, only filled by the skin of John's hand sliding slickly up and down Sherlock's shaft and the wet sound of him licking his lips when the man above him groaned. Sherlock, as always, was the one to break the silence.

"Get up," he stood, his cock smacking against John's cheek and smearing up to his forehead vulgarly. John moaned in spite of himself and Sherlock looked down with a questioning smirk.

"O-Oh shut up." John muttered and stood on legs shaking with anticipation. He gasped when he was grabbed by the sweater and towed onto the desk on his front side. He watched Sherlock hit aside the papers and trinkets on the desk and moaned in surprise when Sherlock pushed him up so that he was on his knees with his arms and face pressed against the cold desk.

"I've always wanted to try something. Out of curiosity." Holmes spoke as he stripped John down to his sweater, socks, and briefs, his voice taking a pleased tone when he reviewed no complaints from John. "May I?"

"You seemed to be taking what you wanted just fine a minute ago..." He tried to sound annoyed, but the half hard cock in his boxers bretrayed the thought. "What is it you're wanting, Sherlock?"

"Oh a lot." He dropped his voice a bit lower and watched John shiver as he rubbed his thumb against John's clothed entrance. He let out a shaky moan, confused as to why it felt as good as it did, but Sherlock seemed to read his thoughts. "Most stimulus comes from your brain... If you're in the mood for a sex act, it tends to feel better than if you weren't... And there's a special little trait about an anus that makes what I'm wanting better for you."

"Oh for god's sake, get- get on with it, Sherlock!" He realized he was begging at the end there, yet he still didn't understand what Sherlock was saying.

"Be patient." He scolded him. "I want to rim you, John. To use my mouth to stimulate you... Anally..." Sherlock murmured without an ounce of shame. John felt his body heat up in response to the suggestion and he found himself nodding sluggishly.

"Well I... Wouldn't want to take away that experience from you..." He whispered thoughtfully, Sherlock listening to him. "But don't treat me like an experiment, Sherlock. I'm serious."

"Of course, of course." Sherlock rushed to peel the boxers off John, John smiling against the wood of the desk and gripping the edge excitedly. He'd never done this before!

"I'm all clean..." John provided the information, his nerves on edge in anticipation. "Just took a shower- and no- no STDs... Swear on it, Sherlock."

"Alright, stop the swearing, I believe you." He relished in John's surprised moan he supplied for him when he spat onto John's entrance. It twitched under the pad of Sherlock's thumb when he rubbed it in and dipped the tip of his thumb into the small puckered hole. John shifted and his jaw went slack against the desk when he felt the first trace of Sherlock's lips; tracing down the smooth valley of skin between John's cheeks and skimming over his hole, he let out a breathy sound of pleasure when Sherlock sucked his perineum and continued to tease his hole with the tip of his thumb.

"Oh Sherlock..." He murmured, his eyes slipping shut. He felt relaxed, every bone in his body deciding to submit to Sherlock's ministrations. He shifted and rested his head on his arms, looking under his own body and between his legs to get a good look at Sherlock. Oh and it was a good one. He watched Sherlock's mouth move with precision and his erect member stand large against his stomach, Sherlock's smooth fingers spreading his thighs and cheeks apart. 

"John, I've barely begun." He moved his thumb out of the way and listened to John's breathing.

"Then please start..." His voice was a whisper that made Sherlock feel a bit important, a bit special, because he could make the ever composed John Watson sound desperate and wanton.

Sherlock couldn't argue with that voice. He kissed John's hole, the man shuddering and closing his eyes once more. Sherlock grinned against his entrance and closed his eyes, slowly pushing his tongue into him. John gasped, dropping his forehead onto the desk.

Sherlock took that as a go ahead and continued, thrusting his tongue in and out of him. John moaned, his breath hitching when Sherlock wrapped his hand around his cock. He didn't move it, he just squeezed it lightly every now and then while he tongue-fucked John.

John was extremely ashamed. Not because this was wrong, he was just really close to cumming already.

"Sherlock..! Sherlock, please stop..." Sherlock pulled back entirely, John shivering from the cold. 

"Did I-"

"Sherlock, fuck me." He propped himself up on his knees and turned around, guiding Sherlock's hand to his cock. Sherlock looked at John's face and pumped his member lightly, John wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing his jaw. John bit and sucked at his neck, Sherlock sighing through his nose and pumping faster. "In your bed."

"My- Okay, my bedroom." 

Together, the boys made their way to Sherlock's bed, and in a blur of clashing lips and teeth and desperate grinding, they were back completely submerged in their lust.

"How do you intend we do this?" Sherlock panted against John's lips, John sprawled out beneath him with kiss-swollen lips and fingers digging into his shoulders. He gave Sherlock a indulgent look and rolled his hips against Sherlock's thigh.

"However you want, Sherlock." 

Sherlock nodded and dipped down, his fingers sliding up John's sweater as he kissed and nipped at his neck. John moaned softly when Sherlock toyed with his nipples and pushed his sweater up to suck one in between his lips and teeth, worrying the small bud side to side in his skilled mouth.

John grew impatient and he pushed Sherlock to the bed, straddling his waist and stripping him of the clothing he had left on his lithe frame. He experimentally slid his length against Sherlock's and closed his eyes softly with a silent moan. John gasped as soon as Sherlock held onto his hips and canted against John at a steady pace.

John, leaning down to capture Sherlock's lips against his own, matched his dear friend's pace with the rock of his hips against Sherlock's. When their lips met, Sherlock slid his nails up John's back and tugged at his hair, groaning praise against his lips.

"Sherlock!" John couldn't take it anymore; he grabbed Sherlock's cheeks and leaned his forehead against his as he frantically bucked his member against friend's. "A-Ah-oh God... _Please, Sherlock_, let me on it."

"Well-" Sherlock huffed out, relishing in the feeling of John's soft hands against his chest, "- since you asked so nicely, I believe I'm forced to comply."

He peered up at John, who smiled and nodded, reaching for the bedside drawer and grabbing a bottle of lubricant. "So predictable sometimes, detective." John chided Sherlock and leaned up on his knees. He turned around and straddled Sherlock backwards, giving a muffled groan when his face was pushed to the sheets, his body now on all fours.

Sherlock tugged John's hips up so that they were standing proudly in front of Sherlock's erect cock, the rest of John's body lax against the bed which accentuated the arch of his spine and the red flush of his skin. Sherlock took in every little detail while he lathered lubricant onto his cock.

"You are the picture of amazing beauty, John Watson."

"I could say the same to you." John whispered back, closing his eyes when he felt the blunt nudge of Sherlock's tip against his hole. 

After an agonizing minute of Sherlock marking John's skin with dark hickeys, he finally--finally--pushed into John. John's body twitched in pain, the burn flooding his senses before anything else. He cried out when Sherlock snapped his hips forward to slide in the rest of the way, clawing at the sheets. 

Time moved sluggishly and John registered he was crying when Sherlock's patient hand swept down and brushed away his tears. His skin was met with a pleasant warmth when Sherlock leaned across his back and kissed his wet cheeks lightly. "You're crying, John."

"Mo-ove... It will hurt less if I... Get used to it." John forced out, his body quivering with each inward thrust from his friend's cock. He let out breathy, pained sighs with each outward pull and Sherlock drizzled more lubricant onto his cock.

Slowly, John's hole began to adjust and stretch to fit Sherlock all the way into him, and he reached back and grabbed Sherlock's thigh, willing him to go faster. Sherlock readily complied and listened to John's mantra of moans and pleads, breathily grunting at the pleasure from John's hole.

"Aahnn..! Dear god!" He shouted when Sherlock hit his prostate with alarming accuracy. Sherlock excitedly held John'd face to the bed by his hair and began to ruthlessly pound into his entrance with vigor. John leaked onto the sheets and sobbed out desperate moans, starting to pump his cock to the rythm of his companian's thrusts.

"Cum, John, I know you're close." John heard Sherlock's whisper loud and clear, stroking his erection faster and faster, sloppier and sloppier, until he was cumming. It was one of the best orgasms he'd had in quite some time, his whole body convulsing and heating up as he thrust into his own fist. 

While grappling his own orgasm, he felt Sherlock's arms wrap around his waist and he moaned that much louder when Sherlock humped into him like a dog. It could've last hours or minutes, John truly couldn't know, but suddenly Sherlock stilled deep inside of him.

John had never felt ropes of cum paint his innards as thoroughly as Sherlock's just had, but he welcomed the warmth with a long, drawn out moan and he reached back to grab Sherlock's hair. 

Together, unmoving in their position, they basked in the heated silence. John began to laugh when Sherlock pulled out and he turned around, tackling him to the bed with a bear hug. He winced from the pain in his ass, but kissed Sherlock's deeply, his arms around his neck.

"John, that was incredible." Sherlock murmured, his hands stroking John's sweaty hair.

He smiled at him and John's heart swelled with the weight of the simple praise.

"It was..." He rested against his chest and traced his neck and shoulders. "Perhaps we should talk about this tomorrow. I'd like to wake up with my more-than-friend after our first time, after going to sleep on a good note. A happy one this time."

"Yes, well, I deduce-" Sherlock yawned and John touched the hickeys on his neck with a grin, "- that you are 100% correct. Goodnight, John Watson."

"Goodnight, Sherlock Holmes."


End file.
